


Weekenders On Our Own

by Zee (orphan_account)



Series: Weekenders [8]
Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-16
Updated: 2008-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I suppose you know why you're here," William says with a thoughtful tilt of his head, and yeah, Gerard knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weekenders On Our Own

*******

Sometimes when he and Pete fuck, Gerard thinks he's dreaming. Even when he's sober, although the feeling comes more often when he's out of his head to begin with; Pete will open his mouth on a moan and those teeth will flash, or he'll arch in such a way that a human never could, or--or something, it's always something. Sometimes it's just a certain sheen in his eye, or an inhuman look on his face, and Gerard will just be thrown by the surreality of it all. The very air takes on a different quality and each movement Gerard makes feels sluggish and dizzy and not-quite-there. If he closes his eyes it feels more like a sex dream than actual sex, like it's cooked up out of his imagination, like something else even weirder could interrupt at any moment.

When it's like that, Gerard always has to reach out afterward and touch Pete somewhere--a hand on his shoulder, his thigh, his chest. Pete is warm and solid and real, and although he doesn't breathe it's nothing like touching a dead body.

There are advantages to one's sexual partner being a blood-sucker, not that Gerard's had much to compare it to in the last three years. Pete never tires, he's strong and insanely flexible, and--possibly because of the fangs, Gerard has never asked--he loves using his mouth. Pete loves kissing and tonguing every square inch of Gerard's body, sometimes spending so long sucking on Gerard's nipples or neck that he'll bring Gerard to the brink of orgasm without touching his cock. Gerard loves Pete's body, loves touching and fucking him, but he never forgets.

Sleeping with Pete couldn't be something Gerard dreamed up, because his real dreams about vampires are never pleasant.

Gerard is sitting up against the headboard and Pete is straddling his thighs, Pete's arms draped loosely over Gerard's shoulders. His stubby fingernails are scratching the back of Gerard's neck, at the base of his skull. "You guys have been working for this for ages, right?"

"Gabe's death?" Gerard smiles. "It's certainly sweet."

"And the rest of his gang's been pretty quiet, the last couple of weeks." Pete's fingers thread through Gerard's hair, mussing it.

Gerard nods. "It's been a nice vacation. Gives us time to settle all the new people in, get them trained, take care of loose ends--"

"I want to go back to Chicago." Pete looks surprised as he says it, as if the words coming out of his mouth were unexpected, but that changes to certainty as he meets Gerard's eyes.

Gerard's hands tighten on Pete's hips. "No," he says. "I mean--why?"

Pete's gaze drops and his hand stills on Gerard's neck. "I was always gonna go back eventually. We only left to recuperate and bide some time to get stronger, because William had so much of the city--"

"He still has that much of the city! You'll be wiped out!" Gerard ignores how the pitch of his voice is climbing higher. "You're a part of this, you've been fighting them from here."

"Yeah, and now it's time to take the fight back." Pete leans in close to Gerard, trying to make his point. "With Gabe's death, the main leaders are in Chicago now, that's where we should concentrate our efforts."

"Just because Gabe is dead doesn't mean we've won, or--or that you're not needed." Gerard thinks wildly of what he can do to make Pete stay, maybe if he gets Patrick on his side--Patrick won't want to leave Greta, right?

"I know we haven't won--that's why I want to go where the enemy is." Pete's hand comes around to pet down Gerard's chest. "Come with me."

Gerard snarls. "You know I can't leave them."

"I meant you and all your people! Or, well--we could maybe leave some, to rehabilitate Belleville--"

Gerard pushes Pete roughly off him and stands, grabbing for his pants. "Fuck you," he says. "How can you fucking ask this?"

"Come on, the idea's not crazy!" Pete rolls over to Gerard's side of the bed and stands too, gripping Gerard's arm. "You can do way more outside of this little town."

Gerard jerks away from him. "This is where it started. This is where I'm staying."

Pete opens and closes his mouth. "If it's because of--"

"*Fuck* you," Gerard says again, leaving without bothering to find his shirt.

Ray is in the office, looking over Brian's shoulder at a computer screen. "Patrol," Gerard says. 

Ray looks up, frowning a little--it hasn't been very long since their last patrol. But then he nods and says "Yeah, sure," following Gerard outside to the van.

It's a waste of gas. They criss-cross the town over and over, and every time Gerard thinks he sees something it's just a shadow. The one group of vampires they do find run from them, actually fucking run--vampires are almost always way too cocky to run from humans, especially in a town they control. Ray throws his stake and gets one of them in the back, and the rest keep fleeing.

"Well, geez. This is relaxing," Ray says with a smile, leaning back against the side of the van.

"It won't last forever," Gerard snaps. "They'll come back twice as determined to take over, they're not just gonna give us ground. We have to stay and keep fighting!"

Ray blinks at him and nods. "Well, yeah--"

"There's plenty to do. We need to go on the offensive now, track down Giuliani, build up our people. The fight here's not over." He gets in the driver's side, slamming the car door.

If Ray thinks Gerard's mood has anything to do with a fight with Pete, he doesn't say anything. None of Gerard's people, his original four, ever do discuss Pete with him. They tolerate the relationship, occasionally even seem supportive, but Gerard can tell it makes them uncomfortable, even now.

It's probably a good thing. If he's honest with himself, Gerard knows that he's too far gone to see the signs if Pete starts going bad; he needs people around him who will.

And it's not like he can blame them. Gerard couldn't live without Pete, but sometimes he still wakes up in the middle of the day thinking, _oh god. I'm naked beside a blood-sucking monster._ Hating himself for it doesn't make the instinct go away.

Pete finds Gerard later, when he's a quarter of the way through a bottle of whiskey. "Can we talk?"

"No," Gerard says. "You're just gonna pretend like you're leaving again." He drinks from the bottle and barely spills at all.

Pete says, "Look--"

"Nuh-uh!" Gerard wags a finger in his face. "I don't believe you."

Pete takes a step back, like he's going to leave, and Gerard doesn't want that either. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." He isn't. "Why don't we just--" He steps forward, and his hand that's not holding the whiskey cups Pete through his tight girl pants.

Pete smiles at him and takes the bottle out of Gerard's hand. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Gerard says before they're pressed together, tongues in each other's mouths. 

The next day, Gerard finds Pete, Patrick and Greta huddled together in conversation. He drags Greta away, requesting her help in training some of the new people. He tells Ray he should get Patrick to help him with organizing their weapon stock.

The next time Pete brings the subject up, Gerard is ready for him. "Brian and I are figuring out a way to get to Giuliani. We need a plan to really get them where they live, and that's New York City. If we can break the hold they have there, it'll be huge."

"The leadership in Chicago is just as important, and their hold there just as strong," Pete says stubbornly. "William is there."

"You're going to give them Manhattan just because of your need for vengeance?"

"No! I--we have a better chance now of getting the guys with real power in Chicago than we do here, and *my* people have a better chance of surviving there now than when we left."

"And of course that's why you want to go, right? It's all strategy, nothing to do with your hard-on for your maker's demise." Gerard spits the words out like little stakes, hurt congealing in his chest.

Pete glares. "When I left, I promised myself and the guys that we'd go back. I can't just abandon my home."

"As opposed to abandoning us?"

"I want you to come with me!" Pete steps forward, his eyes earnest. "I don't want to leave you, don't know if I can--"

"You're going to have to if you want to go." Gerard meets his eyes and holds Pete's stare.

"You don't have to leave Jersey for good. Just come with me, help me for a while, we could--you've done such an amazing job with the resistance here, if we were in Chicago--"

"Stop using flattery," Gerard says. He shrugs. "If you go, you care more about getting him than you do about being with me."

"And you care more about sticking to your old comfortable ways than about being with me," Pete snaps back before walking away.

Gerard goes to Frank. "Pete thinks we should all relocate to Chicago to go after William's gang," he says, trying to keep his voice neutral. "What do you think?"

Gerard sees the same indignance that he himself feels light up in Frank's eyes. "No way! Move our whole operation when we finally have a chance to really get Jersey back? Just because Gabe's gone doesn't mean we're done here. We can't just abandon Belleville now." He pauses, giving Gerard a considering look. "But I'll follow you wherever you decide to take us," he says, in a tone of voice that suggested he really hoped that wasn't Chicago.

Gerard smiles in relief. "Good. That's--yeah, I agree. I told Pete no way in hell. That's not... crazy and stubborn, is it?"

"Taking out the stronghold in Chicago is probably important," Frank admits. "But this is our home, and Manhattan is important, too. We can't just leave the east coast to them when things are finally starting to go our way."

Gerard nods, feeling anger flare up again at Pete for wanting to leave. He wants a drink. "Pete--Pete's going to go back, regardless of what we do," he says.

Frank's face changes to sympathetic, and he reaches out to put a hand on Gerard's shoulder. "Gee...."

Gerard doesn't want to deal with it now. 'We should figure out how his absence will affect us--the fight here, I mean. We've gotten really used to having a huge group to fight with, and I know he's taking Patrick, Andy, Joe, and probably the rest of the ones that came from Chicago. Some of the others might opt to join him, too."

Pete ends up taking nine others with him, along with his care--the people that can't fit are taking the greyhound west, and Vin volunteers to drive them to the station in the city. Gerard watches them getting ready to leave in the school parking lot and smokes, cigarette after cigarette. He does not move to join in the group hugs as they say their goodbyes.

Pete comes over to him. "You still won't reconsider?"

Gerard snorts. "Why are you even bothering to ask?"

Pete swallows. "This isn't a forever thing, you know. I'm going to need to come back."

Gerard grits his teeth and does not say, well, I need you to not leave in the first place.

Pete doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Then he says, "Oh, fuck *you,* we are *not* breaking up over this. I love you, you love me, end of fucking story." 

It isn't, but when he yanks Gerard into a kiss Gerard only lasts a second before giving in, sighing into Pete's mouth and putting an arm around his waist.

"Come back to me," he mutters in Pete's ear. "Don't get yourself staked."

Pete gives him a thin smile. "That goes double for you."

Gerard watches them all drive away. By dawn, he is puking up vodka, Brian holding his hair back from his face.

And Brian is the one who kicks him out of bed the next night. "Just because your boyfriend's gone doesn't mean there's no work to do," he says, and just tosses it back when Gerard throws a pillow at him. He hugs Gerard when Gerard gets up, though, and hands him a cup of hot coffee.

"We've got work to do," Brian says, and Gerard can hear the _you guys are going to be fine._

The evening is mostly unproductive. There's a lot of arguing about what to do next, but no real useful suggestions, and Gerard doesn't really have any input. He's hungover and thinking more about Pete's _"Oh, fuck *you*"_ than about what NY vampire agencies are under vampire control; he's distracted and thus useless and he knows it, he doesn't need sharp concerned looks from Brian and Frank to tell him that. He chain smokes through the meeting and after lunch volunteers to patrol. One of the younger kids--he thinks it's Ty or Tyga or something--offers to go with him, but Gerard sees Frank making a beeline for him and ditches Tyga, fleeing the building fast and grabbing Frank's old bike. He's sick of the van, of driving around for hours to get nothing, of being safe behind the wheel. 

But even though he's just one human on a dinky bicycle he still doesn't find anything to hit, and after a couple hours he gives up and heads back. He's a few streets away from home base when he sees the scuffle, two vampires bent over a body curled on the street, and later he'll be disgusted and furious with himself because his first reaction is joy--because he forgets that a fight means more than adrenaline and the sweet chance to kill things that deserve it, because he forgets the whole point.

He lets the bike clatter to the street and he's fast, faster than they expect a human could be, fast enough that he's slashing out with one of his stakes by the time the first vampire has stood up. It falls back almost in slow motion with blood spattering from the horizontal wound on its chest, not dead but out of commission for now, and Gerard turns to face the other one. It's already standing, much taller than Gerard at its full height, and it looks excited.

"I know you," it crows, and Gerard feels a phantom tingling at the edge of his mind, something exploratory and alien and definitely unwelcome. Gerard thinks _psychic, shit,_ and reacts instinctively, putting all his weight behind throwing a punch to the vampire's jaw.

It's a stupid, amateurish move and he should've used his stake, but at least his fist surprises it. The vampire stumbles back and Gerard doesn't waste the moment, throwing his shoulder into its chest and tumbling them both to the ground. Gerard rolls himself on top automatically, raising his hands up with the stake to drive it down the way he's done a thousand times. 

This time the mental energy isn't a tingling, it's a hammer hitting right behind his eyes, and as Gerard yells and squeezes his eyes shut the vampire's fist slams into his sternum, a simple hit that knocks all the breath from Gerard's body and makes something crack. Gerard chokes and feels his back hit the ground and now the vampire is on top of him, its breath on his face and its fingers on his neck. Gerard reacts instinctively again, bringing his knees up into its groin, and when it grunts in pain Gerard gets a grip on its long brown hair. He yanks viciously and it actually screams this time, and Gerard does something he's never tried in a fight against one of these: he leans in and bites its neck, putting all the strength he can into it.

Again, it works only because it's surprising, and the vampire yells again and pulls at Gerard, trying to shake him off, which distracts him from pinning Gerard down enough that Gerard can roll out from under him and scramble to his feet. He gets his stake in his hand and the vampire is on its feet, too, crouched and licking its lips.

"Stay back for now," it calls out, and Gerard feels his stomach drop, because there are more. He's not sure how many, only that it's a number more than enough to take him down, and they're all circling around him.

"You're very stupid," the vampire says quietly. "Better at this than I thought you'd be, but _very_ stupid. I'm guessing that you realize that now, though."

Gerard doesn't bother to reply. He gets another stake out of his jacket pocket, one in each fist, and lets his mind go blank as they attack.

He fights well; some distant part of his mind observes and is impressed. It's all automatic, thrusts and blocks and ducks and hits just to stay alive. He kills two of them right off the bat, but soon it's no use: he can't even raise his arm to fight because they're all over him. He struggles even as he's brought to his knees, hands tight around his throat, and he's not sure if he hears it out loud or just in his head, right before something hits his temple and he blacks out: _I'm William, by the way._

***

When Gerard comes to, his mouth is bloody, and he can feel it trickling back down his throat--he remembers vaguely a few hits to his mouth, enough to knock loose a few teeth. He coughs but that just makes it worse, bloody spittle dribbling down his chin. He moves to wipe it and feels pain in his shoulder: his hands are tied behind his back, cords cutting into his wrist, keeping his arms at an uncomfortable, unnatural angle. 

He feels muzzy and sick but he makes himself lift his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Not that he can see much; the room is dark and warm and humid. Soon he'll be sticky with sweat. His lip is split and when he feels around with his tongue he finds, yes, a hole where one of his teeth should be. He can also still feel his head throbbing where he was knocked out.

He's lying on the floor, and when he moves to stand, he hears the rustle of movement in the room. He freezes. 

Someone laughs. A light turns on, sudden and very bright and Gerard cringes away from it, blinded for a second. He's not ready for it when he feels strong hands on him, pushing him roughly back down, and he falls hard.

He's not at all surprised to see William grinning down at him.

"You aren't looking so good," William says. "Pete downgraded."

Gerard coughs again, spitting blood onto the concrete floor and doesn't say anything. William has left his legs free, and he hasn't bothered to tie Gerard down to anything.

"I suppose you know why you're here," William says with a thoughtful tilt of his head, and yeah, Gerard knows. He doesn't bother to reply.

William makes a 'hm' sound. He kneels so that he's at eye level with Gerard and before Gerard can recoil he has Gerard's face in his hands, his fingers tucking stray strands of hair behind Gerard's ears. Gerard tries to lean away but William's hold turns into a fucking vice grip.

William pushes his tongue into Gerard's mouth and it is absolutely nothing like a kiss. 

Gerard gags and then bites down as hard as he can, hoping to draw blood. He doesn't but William does pull back, and backhands him. Pain explodes in Gerard's head as he falls to the floor, and he thinks he can feel another tooth dislodged. It's like being slapped by a two-by-four. Over the ringing in his ears, he can hear William laughing some more.

This is why he isn't as restrained as he could be, Gerard realizes. William doesn't have to worry about Gerard fighting back and escaping, he doesn't have to worry about a damn thing. Somehow, even though he's been fucking a vampire for the last six months, Gerard had never quite registered how his bones might as well be twigs to them.

In the past several years, Gerard has been in many situations that made him absolutely certain, beyond doubt, that he was going to die. He's still here, so he's learned not to trust the feeling. It's not impossible that he'll get out of this; it's just highly unlikely. 

"It's not going to be as bad as you think," William is saying. "I just want to talk. There's so much I want to discuss with you, now that we've finally met."

Gerard coughs up more blood. "We haven't even been properly introduced."

"You know exactly who I am."

Gerard feels William's thumb on his chin, wiping at the blood and spit that Gerard has coughed on himself. He sucks on his thumb like a child, blinking slowly at Gerard. His other hand tucks his hair girlishly behind his ear. Gerard flexes his wrists in his ungiving bonds and drags himself up on his knees. 

"Yeah, I do. You're one of Gabe's lackeys, right? Or did you get a promotion after we wasted him?"

Something ugly glints over William's face before disappearing, leaving his expression pleasant as before. He removes his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop. "I've seen you before, did you know that? Last spring. You probably remember: it was that little episode your boyfriend had, when he regressed to an animal and went after your neck and all of your friends. Although perhaps you won't remember that specific time--perhaps that happens all the time for you, sleeping with one of us."

"Pete told me that Gabe was the one who made you, right? Well, we kept his head--we put it on display that night and all of us spit on it to celebrate." Gerard feels caught in gruesome babbling, or some bizarre game of chicken where they each try to say the most upsetting thing before the other guy, and he knows that William will probably win. Gerard does not want to hear him continue his story of how William has supposedly seen him before. "I think we may have even played soccer with it that night, man, I don't even know. I was pretty trashed."

"You probably don't know much about what happens between vampires when one makes the other. Certain connections are established, usually staying with both vampires the rest of their lives, and when I dreamt on the anniversary of Pete's re-birth I was with him. I saw how beautiful he was and I felt how very badly he wanted to rip your throat out of your naked body when he woke up next to you. I've remembered your face since then, remembered the way you looked when you saw that he was coming for your blood."

"So you must've had that kind of connection with Gabe, then, huh? You feel it when we got his head?" Gerard is proud that his voice rasps instead of shakes. Fuck, he's terrified.

"I didn't, no." William crouches down until he's at Gerard's level, his fingers coming up to touch Gerard's cheek, the movement gentle and caressing until suddenly it's not. His grip tightens and then there's a snap and Gerard's face explodes with pain. "I don't think I want you talking anymore."

Gerard's scream comes out warped and shapeless and he falls forward onto his shoulder, onto his broken jaw, moaning as much as he can. He's broken bones before, but the pain still makes his eyes well up with tears and he can't keep himself from slobbering spit and blood onto his chin, his mouth slack. 

Enraged vowel sounds come out of his mouth and he struggles against the ties at his wrist, vision blurred. William's laugh is high and musical and Gerard lashes out blindly with his legs, with anything he can. His foot connects hard with William's knee-cap, and William's laugh chokes off into a hiss, but it does nothing: Gerard gets a kick to his ribs from William's wholly uninjured leg.

Gerard curls in on himself and tries not to move his lips, his mouth, tries not to breathe and add to the pain. But he can deal with this, with physical pain and broken bones--he's cracked his jaw before, not nearly as badly as this, but the pain isn't new to him. And if it distracts William from getting to whatever point he wants to get to, from the real reason he wanted Gerard here...

Gerard needs to keep him distracted. He needs to keep _himself_ distracted, needs to make his mind go somewhere else. He needs to focus, think, think about anything. 

Pete, Frank, Mikey, Brian, Ray, Bob--

"I miss your pet vampire, you know. He was an excellent student, he liked my singing, and he kept my bed warm."

Gerard grits his teeth and the result from his jaw makes his eyes roll back in his head from the pain, makes everything disappear, and he forgets what William just said. He has people he loves and who love him and he's going to get out of this--

William's fingers are on his neck, cool against his pulse point, and William's voice is close in his ear now. "You have to understand, we were lovers before I ever took his blood. He spread his legs like it was something he needed, he spent the night and smiled at me in the morning. I wonder how many smiles you get from him now?"

Gerard thinks about Pete's smile, his real smile that always seems to catch his face off-guard, the way it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and changes his whole face. His fangs make it seem almost too large, too buoyant, slightly comical. There's nothing William can say that Gerard will believe, and Gerard's certain that William knows this. 

He feels William lie down behind him, his knee bumping Gerard's leg, his hand still on Gerard's neck. "There was a definite difference between fucking him human and after he'd turned, I think. Not just the obvious sexual differences between humans and vampires, which I'm sure you must be familiar with, but--hmm. He was more... trusting, I suppose. Yes." William leans in and his lips barely brush the curve of Gerard's ear. "I guess you'll never know. Pity."

Gerard has been angry for almost the entirety of the last three and a half years--the only times he can remember feeling no rage, he's been with Pete or extremely immersed in liquor. Anger is who he is, it's what he breathes and eats and lives and kills for, a fact of his life. The anger is with him every day, but usually it stays fairly quiet in the back of his mind. But William makes him remember and realize that this is the monster that did to Pete what others did to Mikey, hurt him and ripped away his humanity and took away who he was and damned him. Every morning Gerard wakes up knowing that he won't be able to make this work forever, knowing that the strain of who he and Pete have turned into will pull them apart eventually, and William is who he has to thank for that. Every time Pete sleeps with Gerard he's hoping for self-destruction, and this is who he has to thank for that.

Gerard starts to shake. He can feel fury in every nerve of his body, feel it more than pain, more than fear for his life, more than the knowledge of his own weakness compared to William. He slams his head back as hard as he can and feels his skull connect with William's forehead, hears a yell of pain from William; he balls his fists together and drives his hands back--the angle is too awkward for the punch to be as powerful as it should, but he still hits William's gut, winding him. Gerard twists away and kicks out, gets William in the groin and then he's on his feet, imbalanced by his tied wrists, but standing. He doesn't give a fuck about his jaw and Pete used to be human and he's going to kill this motherfucker.

Gerard moves to kick him again and William catches his foot, faster than Gerard can see. When he pulls, Gerard uses the momentum and falls on him, aiming to land his knee on William's windpipe. It works, and Gerard's whole weight comes down on William's throat. It would have probably killed a human, but all William gives him is one strangled cry before he's grabbing Gerard's arms and flipping him. The wrestling lasts maybe a second before William is on top of him, pinning Gerard face down and grinding his cheek into the floor. William's hand moves to press down harder right where Gerard's jaw is broken, and the pain surges over everything until it makes him pass out.

When he comes to, his wrists and ankles are chained to the wall. He didn't see any place for chains in the room he was in before; has William moved him? How long has he been out? 

"As much as I enjoyed rolling around with you, I think this set-up is better for conversational purposes."

William is sitting in a chair in the center of the room, several feet away. His legs are crossed and he's sitting up straight and his hat is back on. His smile is encouraging and polite like he's interviewing Gerard for a job, as opposed to this.

Gerard can feel his swollen cheek pressing against his teeth. It makes his whole face feel contorted and strangely soft. He is on his knees and the chains are very short.

William jiggles his leg up and down and whistles low, giving Gerard a considering look. Gerard imagines what it might feel like to push a stake into and through him, jagged wood entering in front and coming out his back, Gerard's fist in his chest cavity and blood spilling over his arm. William would probably look so surprised. "I wonder how much Pete has told you about me. Probably not much. I think you ought to be educated."

No matter what William tells him now, there's nothing Gerard can do. No way to lash out; no way to do anything but listen. Gerard starts thinking about music, searches his mind for something to focus on and drown out William's voice: _with your feet on the air and your head on the ground/try this trick and spin it/your head will collapse but there's nothing in it_...

"What has Pete told you about his time with me?" William is standing and pacing now, his hands clasped behind him. "Or actually let me rephrase that so you can actually answer. Did Pete give you the impression that when he was turned, he immediately renounced me and my kind? Nod if yes, shake your head if no."

 _And you'll ask yourself/"Where is my mind?"_ This doesn't work--Gerard knows the song too well, so that thinking of the lyrics requires no concentration at all. He even knows how to play it (badly) on the guitar, thanks to Frank. He switches to his favorite from Bossanova: _There is this old woman/she lives down the road/you can often find her/kneeling inside of her hole_

"Gerard. Answer my question. Nod if it's yes, shake your head if it's no."

_I'm digging for fire  
I'm digging for fire  
I'm digging for fire  
I'm digging for fire_

William's movements are so fast they seem almost liquid to Gerard's eyes. He has a knife suddenly in his hand, metal glinting in what little life there is, and then he's right in front of Gerard's face. There's a slashing motion and pain rips through Gerard's hand, and his scream comes out a garbled wet whimper. William sliced it, a deep cut over his palm, blood coursing heavily down Gerard's arm and drenching his sleeve. When Gerard turns his head to look, he thinks he can see the white of bone.

His hand is useless now. And that's the kind of wound that doesn't easily heal--the human hand works because of many complicated, delicate nerves and tendons. William is aiming for more than just shallow torture; Gerard has a sudden vision of himself as a helpless cripple in the future.

William licks blood off the flat of the blade. "I like to make sure that my student is attentive. Now is it yes? Is it no?"

Through the haze of pain in his hand Gerard doesn't even realize what William is talking about, but he nods. He can feel a breeze on his wound, air on the muscles of his hand that are usually protected by flesh. He's afraid to try and move his fingers. He forgets about The Pixies.

William gives him a brilliant smile. "Fantastic. So--so Pete, yes, that's where we were. Oh, he was so fascinating at the beginning, so unique." William kneels down in front of Gerard, almost reverentially. Gerard thinks about the way Ray's axe sliced Gabe's head neatly from its body. He pictures that here, now, happening to William. "He's probably explained to you how he's an unnatural vampire, how he didn't automatically forget his humanity. That much is true--I was so dismayed at first, when I realized that about him. I thought it meant I couldn't have him."

 _You never had him,_ Gerard wants to say. William's fingers are on his face, smoothing over his skin and pushing Gerard's hair back. Gentle, but Gerard remembers how fast that can change. 

Gerard tries to think about Pete, about Pete's warmth next to him when he wakes up, about tracing the tattoos on Pete's body--

"Pay attention," William says quietly. "I need you to hear this." His fingers keep Gerard present, his touch pressing down hard whenever Gerard starts to drift. Gerard hates him. 

He thinks about Mikey when they were teenagers, swapping CDs, bartering The Smiths for Black Flag. Watching horror movies together, Mikey holding his hair back when he threw up in their bathroom on bad morning afters, Mikey stealing his t-shirts--

William's fingernail digs into the skin of Gerard's temple. "In retrospect I should have seen him differently, should have recognized the opportunities that his abnormality presented instead of just trying to mold him into being the same as any of my boys. But I was determined to have him renounce his old self and embrace our ways, and for a while he did. He was such a victory. You should've seen it."

 _I'm not your fucking confessional,_ Gerard wants to say. He can feel the words in his mouth, shapeless and silent. He doesn't know why William is even bothering with any of this, why he thinks Gerard might believe him. 

"He needed me so much in the beginning." William has a faraway look in his eyes and his fingers are now kneading through Gerard's hair. "He was helpless: he had no sense of what he'd become, the bloodlust was driving him mad, he was weak. For all intents and purposes he was a newborn. But he gravitated towards me, attached himself to me, and we made the most magnificent team."

Gerard thinks of his own team. He doesn't know when they realized he was gone, or if William attacked the school after ambushing Gerard--or before, if vampires were attacking his friends while Gerard was riding his bike and looking for trouble. 

"I loved watching him drink, the single-minded purity of him bent over some human's neck. Teenagers were his favorite--I brought him high schoolers as a special treat, usually."

Gerard let his eyes roll up towards the ceiling, staring up into black. There's nothing William can say that will alter his feelings for Pete, nothing, nothing, nothing. He stares and doesn't let himself blink even when his eyes water, and William's words blur together, meaningless.

"And we worked so well as lovers." William's thumb presses on Gerard's jaw as he says it, eliciting throbs of pain. Gerard looks back at William's face and William looks sly, smug. "He had a talent for giving head. Does he still do that thing with his tongue?"

Gerard's stomach turns and he jerks away, tries to wrench his face out of William's grip. But William's hands are still there and Gerard's body is shaking with fury from his words. He knows that William is lying, saying what he can to elicit exactly this reaction from Gerard, but it's working.

"Go fuck yourself," he tries to say, anger making him forget his unusable jaw. It comes out garbled mush, comical, and William throws his head back and laughs. _You're full of shit,_ Gerard thinks, vicious as he can. _You're lying and even if you weren't it doesn't matter, nothing you could say matters, none of it, go to hell you motherfucking insane cocksucker._

William stops laughing and gives Gerard a considering look. "But I suppose you shouldn't take my word for it." He moves his fingers to touch Gerard's pulse on his throat, and suddenly everything Gerard can see disappears.

He's not kneeling anymore--he's not _himself_ anymore. Gerard can feel himself in a physical body but it isn't his, he's not himself, and he's certainly not chained to the wall. He's naked and there's--oh god--

Everything crystallizes instantly as he realizes what's going on. He's heard of vampires powerful enough to invade someone's mind, but he's never personally encountered it. He's in William's body, he can feel William's fangs in his mouth, and he can see Pete. Pete, his fingers clutching Gerard's (William's) hips, Pete groaning, Pete's lips on his cock.

Gerard tries to push him away but he can't, he can't do anything but just observe and feel it as it happens--no, god, feel what _William_ felt as it happened. _You see?_ William's voice whispers in his mind. _I have plenty of memories like this. Plenty of memories of him, of the two of us happy together--_

 _Fuck you,_ Gerard thinks back at him. _This could be fabricated, manipulated, you have powers I don't and you could be making me see anything you want._

William's voice in his head laughs as William's body orgasms. Gerard can feel the waves of pleasure wash over him in the memory at the same time that William says, _I could but I'm not. Either way, I don't believe you'll be able to get these images and memories out of your head now. It's rather vivid, isn't it?_

It's more than vivid. Gerard can taste the spunk in Pete's mouth when Pete sits up to kiss him, he can smell their sweat and he recognizes the sated, almost childlike post-coitus smile Pete gives him when he pulls away. Over Pete's shoulder he can see, oh, god, a body, a long white arm with blood crusted on the wrist. Is it a teenager? He can't tell, and Pete is _smiling_ at him and leaning in to kiss him again, Pete just blew a fucking vampire--

 _So judgmental,_ William says, and the scene disappears as quickly as it came. Gerard feels bodiless for a moment before he materializes, again in William's body. The scene this time is outside and Gerard can hear screaming and smell humans everywhere, their fear, their blood, their decaying flesh.

And there's Pete, his lips stretched away from his teeth in an excited snarl, eagerness in his eyes. He looks like an animal, delighted and hungry, and Gerard knows what's going to happen. He knows and he doesn't want to see this, he can't see this, but Pete moves fast--moves the way William moves. He has a girl in his arms, a teenaged girl and then his face is buried in her throat and Gerard can _hear_ it. He can hear Pete's grunts and the gurgling noises as Pete drinks his fill, and he can see the life draining out of her and that could have been anyone, could've been someone's sister, could've been Mikey. Pete keeps guzzling as her body goes utterly limp.

The scents and sounds melt away and Gerard can feel the cold floor beneath his knees and the pain in his jaw and palm. He can see William's face in front of his, twisted and triumphant.

"That's what you're in love with," he says, voice earnest and loud, almost a yell. "That's the monster you've been sharing a bed with, whom you've let touch you, suck you, fuck you."

Gerard moves in one of the only ways he can, slamming his forehead against William's as hard as he can. It sends blinding pain through his head but it hurts William, too, knocking him back on his ass with a yell. William's hand flies up to his forehead and the look he gives Gerard is childish in its indignant anger. His expression darkens as he scrambles to his feet, and Gerard knows he shouldn't have done that. William gets something from a corner of the room and then he's right there in front of Gerard, holding a brand. Gerard notes that ironically, it's the same instrument he ordered Bob to use to burn Graham's neck months ago, and then William is yanking his arm forward and pressing the hot metal to the sensitive skin on the inside of Gerard's elbow.

Gerard yells and the pain doesn't end quickly. William presses the metal down and keeps it there and keeps it there and Gerard can hear his own skin sizzling and burning off. He tries to black out, tries to take his mind away but he can't, his skin just burns and burns and burns and he barely even realizes that William is speaking, hissing and spitting and Gerard's ear: 

"--thought that even for a moment, he could be yours? Think he can be human? He'll never belong to you and he'll never change, he was born evil and he's been fucked by evil and you can't change that or fix it or help him, you fucking naive sad sack of meat."

When William finally takes the heat away, his expression is twisted and wild, far from his cool composure of earlier. Gerard can feel his own cheeks wet with tears and he doesn't want to look at his arm, doesn't want to see the charred flesh. William grabs Gerard's face in both hands, gripping his jaw hard and bringing more pain.

"I'll _show_ you," William snarls, and Gerard knows he should be taking note of how unhinged he's become, of how William has been clearly showing him his own weak spots and what can be used against him, but all he can think is _get away._

The pain is gone, but Gerard knows better than to be grateful. Everything's gone and then there's Pete, Pete smiling at him, affection and want in his eyes and for a moment Gerard is nothing but happy to see him. Then he remembers that he's in William's body, in his memory and in his head, and Pete's smile is for William.

There's a body between them, and as Gerard watches Pete brings an arm to his lips. He drinks from the wrist with his eyes still on William, still affectionate, and this could be an illusion, it's not necessarily real, William could be showing him anything--

 _But you believe it's true,_ William sneers at him. _It doesn't seem to take much to have you view your lover as a monster...._

Gerard's reply isn't in words so much as waves of hostility and fury and disbelief, but he thinks that William gets the picture. The scene is gone but William isn't letting him get back to his own head: now it's Pete dressing in a fancy suit, the same kind William wears, getting ready for his first real hunt and visibly eager to kill; now it's William fucking Pete into the floor, singing into his ear; Pete feasting on a boy who can't be older than sixteen; Pete gasping out that he loves William as William touches him. There's nothing Gerard can do to block it out, nothing he can do to make it less real--it's like these are all scenes that he's remembering, crystal clear even though the most Gerard has seen Pete do is use his teeth on other vampires in a fight.

The scenes keep coming, violence upon violence and Pete doing everything that Gerard has dedicated his life to fighting against. Gerard tries to hold on to his memories of Pete doing good and his memories of Pete _with him,_ not sucking William's dick or spreading his legs for him or kissing him with human blood in their mouths. But it's no use, and William's memories wash over him until revulsion and nausea are the only feelings left in him.

It's a shock when he comes back to his own body and reality. The physical pain is immediately overwhelming, a welcome distraction and Gerard gives in to the burn on his arm, the gash on his hand. He jerks his arm back and forth and brings fresh new waves of hurt, erasing any thoughts, erasing images of Pete.

William's hands are still on his face, and he jerks Gerard's head up to meet his eyes. William's eyes look disoriented and his skin is grayish and taut, but his lips are set in a triumphant grin. "You see what I made him?" he whispers. "You see what he _is?_ "

No. No, that's not--Gerard grinds his teeth together and the pain screaming from his jaw almost triggers his gag reflex. Yes, that, he does it again--

"He's so beautiful. He's beautiful and perfect and he is not one of you. He's made for killing, for ripping out vulnerable throats like yours--"

He digs his nails into his own wound and William shakes him, shakes his head back and forth. "He could decide at any moment that he prefers my way to yours, he could murder you in your sleep--or any of your friends, how would you like that?"

When they first met, Pete said himself that he was wrong, unnatural. He seemed to hate himself but he never said anything about why or what he'd done.

"You can see him attacking them, can't you? Attacking you or any of your friends, your family--"

Does William know about Mikey?

"Don't you think it's rather irresponsible of you?" William's voice has regained some of its smoothness from before, but his eyes still glint with insanity. "Endangering your little group. Fucking what you should be killing. You must hate yourself, to choose to embrace something you find so vile. Or perhaps you want him _because_ of what he can do. Do you want him to feast on you the way he does on other humans, is that it?" William smirks and his fingers comb through Gerard's hair, petting him. "Maybe you'd like him to make you one of us."

Gerard closes his eyes as William laughs. 

Then his laugh ends abruptly and his hands leave Gerard's face as he stands, and--and Gerard hears it too. There's a commotion outside. William curses and crosses the room to a door, yanking it open. There's someone outside but Gerard can only hear snatches of conversation. 

"--just bide me time!" William yells as he slams the door shut again, and Gerard feels a surge of hope because this has to mean his people are here for him, against all odds, probably getting themselves killed in the process, but they came for him.

The hope lasts until William turns to face him, and Gerard remembers that William can do anything in the space of time between this second and whenever his rescuers break in. In an instant William is standing over him again, his face like stone.

"I think--yes. Oh, yes," he says, seemingly to himself, before bending down. He yanks Gerard's head back by his hair and bites deep into Gerard's throat, and Gerard screams and screams and screams until everything fades away. 

***

There's blood everywhere. The walls are read, the floor is red, Gerard has red on his palms. Pete is behind him and his arms are around Gerard, hugging him in close. "I love you," he pants in Gerard's ear. "I want--come on, let's--"

There are bodies in front of them, a pile of them: Mikey, their parents, Frank, Patrick, Brian, Bob, Ray, Greta, Jesse--Gerard knows them all. Gerard knows what Pete wants, and he wants it too--

"Come _on,_ " Pete says, one of his hands moving down to cup Gerard through his pants. "Let me."

"But you already took--" Gerard touches his neck. He's still bleeding, there's a hole, there are teeth marks. When Pete lets go of him, Gerard falls on top of the bodies on the floor.

Gerard's mouth feels dry like paper when he wakes up. All he can see is white at first, bright enough to hurt his head, and he has to blink several times before it makes sense, before it's clear he's staring at a hospital ceiling.

He turns his head to the side, looking around. He needs a glass of water. Everything feels sluggish and achy.

"You're awake! Oh, fuck, Gee." Frank's presence feels sudden, even though Gerard realizes he's just sitting at his bedside and he's been there since Gerard woke up. He's grabbing Gerard's hand and squeezing hard, and there's relief on his face. Brian is there, too, sitting next to Frank and leaning in towards Gerard. 

"Ray and Bob just left, they'd been here for like ten hours," Frank babbles. "You've been out for, like, days, you lost so much blood--"

Gerard has the worst case of cottonmouth he's ever experienced. He tries to ask for water, but his jaw is wired shut. He points instead at the glass of water he can see on the table next to Frank. Frank looks around wildly for what Gerard is asking for, but Brian gets it first and hands him the glass. Just holding the glass to his mouth and drinking feels strange and hard, and Gerard pours half of what he tries to drink down his front.

"Do you need anything else? Should we get--fuck, we should get a nurse," Frank says, moving towards the call button, but Gerard waves him off. No nurses, no doctors, not now.

"Okay, okay, we won't call for them, that's all right, we can--yeah," Frank says. Gerard realizes that Frank is terrified.

Brian scrubs a hand over his face. "It was touch and go for a while there, man," he says, quiet. "You were in pretty bad shape."

Gerard stares at them. He doesn't feel hungry, doesn't want blood, he can remember who they are, and he doesn't think he's died. Although they said he 'slept' for days...

"Do you want us to--what do you want? Is there anything we can get for you?" Brian says, as Frank says "We're sorry Pete's not here, we've been trying to get him in but visiting hours are during the day, but he's been crazy without you--"

Gerard shakes his head to Brian's question and turns on his side away from them, as much as he can. He doesn't want to see Pete right now. 

"Hey, man, are you--" Frank starts to say, but Brian shushes him.

"We should let you sleep," he says, and Gerard nods. They get up to leave, Frank squeezing Gerard's hand with "You're going to be fine, it's great to see you, we're really. Yeah. It's great," before Brian drags him away.

When Gerard closes his eyes, he sees red instead of black, so he stares up at the ceiling until he's too exhausted to keep his eyes open. He doesn't dream.

When he wakes up, there's a nurse. She speaks to him in a crooning voice like he's a child, and spoon feeds him his dinner. He's pretty sure she gives him more drugs, too, and he's asleep again when she leaves. The next time he opens his eyes Pete is sitting in the chair next to his bed, and it's dark. 

"Hi," Pete says. His voice sounds strange, just--strange. "I managed to sneak in."

How? How did he sneak in? Did he have to attack someone, any humans to get in? Gerard's heart is racing. He tries to sit up but is immediately overwhelmed by dizziness, and slumps back down onto the pillows.

"You've lost a lot of blood, you probably shouldn't try to sit or stand or, uh. Move," Pete says. "Did they--has anyone told you what happened?"

Gerard shakes his head. He's alive, he thinks, and that's all he knows. He needs to know who else is alive, but he doesn't have a way to ask.

"They attacked the school after they kidnapped you--one of them had your jacket, and they were boasting about it," Pete says. "Most of our guys got out, leaving the school entirely, and everyone with my group got here as soon as we could when we heard. We managed to track William down to some--some random fucking warehouse in Belleville. We took out a lot of his cronies but he escaped, and we found your body--" 

The strangeness in Pete's voice increases and it starts to shake. "He killed you. I mean, he--he left you for dead, he took so much that you should've had only seconds to live. He left--left you sort of alive because he wanted me to find you, knew what I could, he wanted--" Pete's breaths are coming in gasps now and he puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

"I was supposed to turn you," Pete says into his fingers. When he looks up, his face is stretched and pale and the look in his eyes makes Gerard's flesh creep. "That was the idea. Giving you blood, changing you, it was the only way to save you--"

Gerard sits up, ignoring the wave of dizziness, tries to get out of bed because no way, no fucking way--

"I didn't." Pete's voice breaks. "I didn't, I knew it wasn't right, so I let you die. I didn't think there was a way for the hospital to revive you, I was--I let you die. I didn't do anything to save you."

Gerard lies back down. He feels nauseous now, and he wonders if there's a bucket or something in here that he can vomit in.

"You wouldn't have been taken if I hadn't left, and then I let you die," Pete says. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I should have but I couldn't, it's you and I couldn't. Jesus."

Pete is looking at Gerard like it's painful to do so. He looks like he's in almost as bad shape as Gerard is.

Gerard looks at him and thinks about teeth ripping in. He thinks about the girl he saw screaming as Pete ate her. The nausea builds and all he can do is turn enough to throw up on the floor instead of on the bed.

"Oh god, are you--you're not okay, Oh Gerard--" Pete is on his feet now, touching Gerard's shoulder and his face, careful and gentle. Gerard needs to tell him not to be such a fucking idiot, that of course he did the right thing, of course Gerard is grateful that he was willing to let him die instead of turning him. But Pete's hands on him just make him dizzier, and he shrinks away from the touch.

Pete lets go and moves back. "I love you. When I thought you were dead, it was--I--" 

He sits back down, and Gerard doesn't know what to do or say. He wants to tell Pete he loves him and he also wants to ask Pete how long he was sleeping with William, how many people he's killed. He thinks about kissing him, but the thought just brings up the feeling of William's tongue in his mouth.

He sits up slowly, as much as he can, and reaches for Pete's hand. He squeezes his fingers and rubs his thumb over the tops of Pete's knuckles, hoping that Pete gets the idea of--of some forgiveness, at least. Pete squeezes back and doesn't meet Gerard's eyes.

Pete stands. "I should go," he says, and Gerard nods in agreement. "I'll ring for a nurse or something to clean up in here."

The nurse comes and cleans up the vomit and changes some of his bandages, and Gerard falls asleep again.

***

When they let him out of the hospital, Gerard can talk slowly and carefully, and he's still on a liquid diet. He has stitches on his neck and on his hand, which still isn't fully functional because William sliced through so many nerves, and the burn on his arm is on its way to getting better. The hospital is in Newark, and Frank drives him back to Belleville. Their high school is overrun by vampires now, so the gang has been holed up in an abandoned motel by the freeway, Frank tells him.

"Apparently there've been bad attacks all over the eastern seaboard, not just here," Frank says. "I've even heard that they were attacking people out in the open in Manhattan. They're not afraid anymore."

It's not that the vampires aren't afraid anymore, Gerard knows; it's just that their leaders have gone insane. He remembers the look in William's eyes, and he's not sure if it was Gabe's death or Pete's abandonment that drove him crazy, but either way Gerard knows that William has stopped giving a shit about keeping his kind a secret, about anything but revenge on humanity.

Frank also tells him that both Tom and Garrett are dead--Garret in the attack on the school, Tom in the fight to rescue Gerard. Gerard's first feeling is relief that no one closer to him is dead, and then he wants to stab himself in shame for the thought. But Frank looks at him like he knows what he's thinking, a sad smile on his face.

"No, I know," he says quietly. "I'm really glad that Bob and Ray and Brian and you are all okay."

Gerard hates that they have to be grateful that the outcome wasn't worse.

He's shocked by the number of people at the motel when they arrive. Their numbers seem to have almost doubled, dozens of new kids and adults and even, Gerard thinks, a family or two. 

"It's because of all the new attacks," Frank explains when Gerard asks about it. "Most of these people are refugees from fights last week, people that managed to escape."

"We need to get them organized," Gerard says. His voice feels very unused and his words often come out hard to understand, as if he's speaking through gritted teeth all the time. "Get them ready to fight."

Frank nods. "We all know they're going to attack again. It's just a question of when."

Everyone in their little camp is glad to see him, tells him he's looking great. Pete hangs back, glancing at Gerard through his bangs and not coming near him while everyone else is around. Pete had come to see him in the hospital once more after his first visit, but had spent most of the time apologizing, again, this time for deciding to leave Gerard's side for Chicago. Pete's self-loathing had been clear in every word out of his mouth and every movement in his body, and Gerard couldn't--it was hard to see, it made him feel sick. He'd faked sleep until Pete had left.

And now Pete is here, and Gerard can talk to him and touch him and love him, but just looking at him makes Gerard feel like he's in that dark room with William again. Gerard does his best to push the feeling away and follows Pete back to his room as soon as people have stopped welcoming him back.

"Gerard," is all that Pete says when they're alone. He takes Gerard's good hand, lacing their fingers together and just staring at that for a moment before pulling Gerard carefully into a hug.

Gerard returns the embrace and closes his eyes, tries to let it feel good. But it's--he remembers the grip William had on him, holding him down and holding his face and holding his head back, and Pete's arms seem to tighten and constrict him further. Gerard stiffens and Pete feels it, letting him go.

"Sorry," Gerard mutters. "It's just. I was with William, and I'm still not really used to--he--um."

"What did he do to you?" Pete's giving him space, but there's cold fury in his voice and eyes. He looks predatory, menacing, and Gerard looks away. 

"Nothing I can't recover from," he says. "Right now it's just--I'm uh. Jumpy."

It's a lie: Gerard is only skittish around Pete, because of what Pete is, and Pete probably suspects that. But he doesn't say anything, just sits down on the bed and looks up at Gerard. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times before speaking.

"You don't have to talk about what happened. But if you do, I mean. You know I'm here, you know I--" Pete takes a breath in and blows it out with his lips pursed. "I know William. I know what he likes to do. I can probably understand what you're going through."

Gerard looks at him, and things click into place. Pete thinks that William coerced him into sex or outright raped him, and he's saying that he'll understand because he's been there with William himself. Gerard knows then that everything William showed him was true, it all happened. He knows that if he asks Pete, Pete will admit to everything, and Gerard doesn't want to ask him. Doesn't want to think about it.

"Thanks," Gerard says, finally, going to sit next to Pete on the bed. "Can we just--sleep? For now?"

Pete looks at him and leans forward to kiss him on the lips, quick and chaste. Gerard only feels the pressure of Pete's teeth behind his lips against his own mouth for a second before pulling back and nodding. "Yeah, sure."

They lie on top of the covers with all their clothes on. It's a little after dawn, so Pete falls asleep quickly, and Gerard stays awake for a long time listening to him not breathe. When Gerard does sleep, he dreams of all the memories William showed him, and he wakes up shaking.

"Gee?" Pete is already awake, sitting up over Gerard and looking concerned. Gerard shakes his head and sits up, looks away. 

"Just a nightmare," Gerard says when Pete puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm fine. How long were you with William?"

He turns to face Pete, and he didn't want to have this conversation now but he has to know, has to hear it from Pete. Pete drops his hand at the question, staring at Gerard and looking uncertain and dismayed.

"I don't--really know, my memory is all. Fuzzy." Pete swallows. "I was changed at the beginning of February, and I found the guys again in spring, so--a month? Two months? Longer, I don't know. What did he tell you about me?"

"He told me a lot about you. About the two of you." Gerard hears how accusatory the words sound and he closes his eyes, makes himself breathe a little before continuing. "I didn't believe him, I trust you, I just need to--to know."

"What do you want to know?" Pete's voice is rising and his hands are clenched in the bedsheets. "It was a long fucking time ago--"

"Were you fucking, were you lovers?" Gerard hates how his voice sounds, hates that he's asking this but he can't make himself stop. 

"Yes," Pete says and Gerard feels his gut twist; Pete isn't looking at him. 

"Were you--" Gerard stops. "He forced you. Or--or took advantage of you, is that it? Was it against your will? You can tell me. Pete."

"I don't know," Pete snarls, standing and pacing. "Some of it might have been, sometimes it felt like I was under some kind of spell, but mostly--"

"So you liked him, you wanted him, you--"

"I fucked him, yes! Yes, everything you're thinking of I probably did with him, yes I was his fucking whore--"

"Did you love him?"

"Yes, no, I don't know!" Pete stops, glaring at Gerard. "Sometimes I thought I was in love with him. Sometimes I think I still am. Is that what you want to hear? Aren't you fucking glad you asked?"

"He must have tricked you," Gerard says, standing as well. "He has all kinds of mental powers, he must have--forced you into it, something, I don't know--"

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't," Pete says. "I don't know, I don't remember well enough." His shoulders slump and the anger seems to go out of him. "I can't tell you that I never wanted it, that I was innocent and he was to blame for everything, if that's the answer you're looking for. Maybe it was against my will, but I still went with it. It's still my fault."

"I don't believe that," Gerard says, lying. "I can't--he must have taken advantage of you--"

"Sure, maybe, I don't know," Pete say, his voice tired. "I certainly remember wanting it, at least."

"He showed me other things." Gerard doesn't want to keep talking. He doesn't, he wants to leave this, but-- "He made me see you killing people and hunting with him--"

"Fuck." Pete runs his hands through his hair and rubs at his face and Gerard desperately wants Pete to contradict him, to say "I _never!_ " full of indignation.

"Did you kill humans? Were you part of his little gang? Just tell me, fuck, please."

"I know I killed at least one person." Pete meets Gerard's eyes finally, miserably. "Possibly more. I--I can't be sure. Usually William just brought the bodies to me, but I wasn't very--coherent. I could have drained tons of people."

Yes, William brought the bodies to him. Gerard knows because Gerard saw it, and he can see it now just as clearly if he closes his eyes. He doesn't know how to see anything else.

"I never claimed to always be a saint," Pete is saying. "I never said I'd always been good or that I never fed on humans--fuck, Gee, why do you think I'm so driven to do good _now?_ You never thought I was trying to make up for anything?"

"I tried not to think about it," Gerard says. 

"There's no way that my past can make you think worse of me than I do," Pete says, his mouth twisting in a bitter line. "I deal with the guilt every day, I'm working to redeem myself. You know that."

 _I don't think worse of you,_ Gerard wants to say, should say. But the memory of fangs in his throat, of his life being drained away by a monster is too new. He can't even look at Pete without being painfully aware of exactly what he is, and now he's also aware of what Pete's done. Which isn't surprising, isn't something Gerard hadn't suspected on some level, especially when he first met Pete. But now it's tied with William and Pete loving William and Gerard can't face it.

"I'm sorry. I have to go," he says, and Pete doesn't try to stop him when Gerard leaves the room. 

Gerard finds Frank. "I need a cigarette," he says, and even though the doctor told Gerard that smoking wasn't a good idea with his throat or his jaw, Frank just nods. They smoke in silence on Frank's bed--Bob is off training some of the new people. 

Gerard inhales quickly, sucking smoke down fast as he can. "Do we have any booze? Like, anywhere?"

Frank snorts and shakes his head. "No, man. We don't have anything. This is my last pack."

"And yet you still let me mooch. What a good friend," Gerard says, and Frank grins.

"It's fucking awesome to have you back, man. Like--geez, you don't even understand, when you were gone--and even when you were in the hospital--" Frank takes a deep drag on his cigarette before continuing, staring down at the ratty motel comforter. "None of us know how to do this without you. It was like--it kind of didn't even feel real."

"Bullshit. You'd keep going without me," Gerard says immediately, although he is touched by the sentiment. 

Frank sticks out his tongue. "Only because you taught me well, Obi-Wan."

Gerard snorts. "Don't call me that. Obi-Wan's whole purpose in the movies is to die to make room for Luke, and I came a little too close to dying lately to think about that."

Frank laughs. "Yeah? You see the light at the end of the tunnel and all that?" His smile disappears and he finishes off his cigarette, putting it out in the ash tray, and when he speaks again his voice hesitant and careful. "What... what did happen to you? I mean--you don't have to tell me, if you don't want, but." Frank looks him in the eye and puts a hand on Gerard's wrist. "Gee. Are you okay?"

Gerard looks up at the ceiling. "I'll heal."

"Don't be a fucking jackass. That's not what I meant."

It's Frank; evasion is futile. Gerard puts out his own cigarette. "William talked to me mostly about Pete. The reason he broke my jaw in the first place is he wanted me to listen and not talk back."

Frank mutters a curse that Gerard can't make out under his breath and squeezes Gerard's wrist. "Okay..."

"He's an incredibly strong vampire. You've heard of vamps with psychic abilities, right? He has them in spades, and after a while he wasn't just telling me, he was--it's sort of hard to explain, but he was showing me. He took me inside his head, to his memories, and--" Gerard hesitates. He can't, won't tell Frank the details about Pete and his past. "It just kind of fucked me up."

Frank doesn't say anything. He's tapping out a rhythm on Gerard's wrist, and when he looks up the expression on his face is similar to the predatory fury Pete had in his eyes earlier. But looking at it on Frank doesn't make Gerard's blood run cold, doesn't make him imagine Frank killing humans in cold blood. "We're going to get that motherfucker for you. He's gonna fry, we'll get him like we got Gabe, and. He'll pay, Gee. I promise."

Gerard thinks about this, and finds that he doesn't particularly care, at least not right now. He doesn't need William to burn; he needs William to never have existed.

But he nods. "Thanks." He turns his hand over to squeeze Frank's fingers and then pulls him into a hug. Hugging Frank is okay, it doesn't trigger memories of strong fingers on his jaw, on his neck. It doesn't make him need to escape.

The door opens and Bob enters the room, hesitating when he sees Gerard. "Hey, man," he says quietly.

Gerard smiles. "Hi."

"You want a cigarette?" Frank holds the pack out to him, and Gerard gets the subtext: _come on in, it's fine, you're not interrupting a best friends moment anymore._

Bob smiles and waves the offer away, coming to sit with them on the bed. "Is it good to be on your feet again?"

Gerard shrugs. "Better than being stuck in a hospital bed."

He finds Pete later that night, drinking a can't-believe-it's-not-blood smoothie on the second story balcony of one of the hotel rooms. Pete grunts a greeting when he sees Gerard, before going back to his smoothie and his staring into the distance. Gerard sits next to him, staring off in the same direction.

"I'm sorry," he offers. "I know that this is fucked up. I know that everything he showed me shouldn't matter."

Pete snorts and finishes off his drink. "I don't know. I think your judgment is indicative of heroic righteousness, probably. I'm the monster here, after all."

"You're not." It's an automatic reply, and it's still something that Gerard believes, definitely. "Anything you've done is his fault." 

Pete looks at him finally. "You really think that?" Gerard nods. "So then why are you scared to touch me?" 

"When you first got to Belleville, I made one of my guys stand watch by your room every night for a month to make sure you weren't going to go on a kill spree. I'm kind of fucked up when it comes to things with sharp teeth, Pete."

Pete wraps his arms around his knees and rests his cheek on his forearm. The position and the way it makes his hair flop makes him look like a little boy. "It's not like you just now found out that I'm a bloodsucker."

"He gave me nightmares about you," Gerard says, and he hates the sound of his own voice, quiet and flat and telling the truth.

Pete's eyes tighten. "*I* have nightmares about me. That doesn't have to mean--"

"Last night I dreamed about you ripping an innocent woman's throat out, I saw it like I was there," Gerard says, and he can see the way the words seem to visibly hurt Pete, making him flinch. "I dreamed about you drinking blood and fucking William, and it's worse because it all happened, didn't it?" Pete doesn't say anything and Gerard makes himself keep talking past the sticky bitter lump in his throat. "Maybe if I didn't have the visual aids it wouldn't matter as much, maybe if I didn't have my own past and maybe if William hadn't--" he stops short, and he can see Pete flinch at the mention of William's name, as well.

Gerard feels jealousy and fear curl in his stomach. He knows that Pete is obsessed with William; that much has been obvious for a while now. And he knows that Pete knows William is evil, he knows that Pete wants to stop him, he knows that Pete is obsessed for many of the same reasons that Gerard is. And he knows that they're in love, he knows that he'll never find anyone who makes it easier for him to breathe than Pete does. 

And now William has added to Gerard's knowledge. Now Gerard also knows that Pete was in love with William for a time; now Gerard knows that William is still in love with Pete; now Gerard has an idea of where Pete's obsession comes from. And now Gerard thinks that he doesn't know Pete as well as he thought he did, and he might never know Pete well enough to be certain that he'll never be a threat.

Gerard can't tell anymore if this kind of doubt is crazy and fucked up or smart, and Pete is staring at Gerard like he's waiting for something even worse.

"Maybe if I were a better person, I could get past it," Gerard says, and Pete's face closes off. "Maybe if I didn't have my own baggage, maybe if I--but Pete, god, I'm fucking sorry--"

"You don't have to apologize," Pete says, and stands. "I can't really blame you. It's not like I've forgiven myself."

 _It's not like that,_ Gerard thinks miserably. But hell, maybe it is like that--Gerard doesn't know one way or the other. He stands up as well. "Look, I just think I need to take a break, I'm not saying--"

"Right, sure, whatever," Pete says, and he's gone. Gerard exhales sharp and rocks back on his heels and sees blood and teeth. 

***

 _\--city officials are still missing as the attacks continue,_ the anchorman on NBC's streaming website continues. _We're getting more and more eyewitness reports that these attackers seem somehow superhuman and are aiming to bite their victims and suck their blood..._

"Wow," Frank says, staring at the computer screen with his mouth slack. "This is way worse than the attacks of last week."

"No kidding," Brian says, also staring. "I don't think any vampire attacks have ever been bad enough to get live news coverage before."

"'City officials still missing,'" Patrick snorts. "What do you want to bet that the city officials are joining in the attacks?"

"Either that or they were the first ones eaten," Brian says. "Shit. They're not fucking around."

"It's not going to be just in New York City," Gerard says. "I'll bet that if we turn to Chicago's news outlets we'd find similar stories, and maybe even on the west coast, too."

"Some of the new kids here are refugees from vampire killings all the way out in L.A.," Pete says. "They've definitely got a presence there." When Gerard looks over at him Pete meets his eyes for a beat before looking down and away.

Gerard swallows and looks back at the fuzzy computer screen, the news report paused on a scene of bodies in the street. He's not ready for a fight, not by a long shot, and many of the others aren't either--they're either recovering from the rescue mission or they need more training. But they're looking to him for leadership, and he feels as sick and uncertain as he did the first time he gathered Brian, Frank, Ray and Bob together and told them that they needed to fight back. 

His uneasiness doesn't keep him from knowing what the right decision is here. "Whatever we're going to do--whatever we _can_ do--we need to do it now," he says. "If they're attacking like this in major cities, they'll be coming for us at any minute, and they'll be strong enough to take us out. We need to act now."

Everyone turns to look at him. "That's crazy," Patrick says. "No way are we strong enough, not with how powerful they've become. We'll just be slaughtered. We'd be better off going underground and staying off their radar until we can build a better army and strategy."

"We don't have a hope in hell of hiding ourselves effectively from William," Pete says. "Especially not if we let them take over every major metropolitan area in the U.S."

"They're just going to get stronger if we don't step up. At least if we strike now, they won't expect it, and they won't be as strong as they could be if we just let their forces grow," Gerard says, and he can see most of the rest of the guys gathered around nodding. Patrick looks reluctant, but he doesn't object again.

"We could use their new base to our advantage. We know our way around the old school much better than they possibly could," Bob points out, but he doesn't need to; it's settled.

They have plenty of cars to transport their people to the fight, because most of the newer refugees drove in. Most of the drivers have the job of dropping off one load of fighters and then going back to the motel for more troops. Gerard has asked that everyone who is even slightly able to fight comes to help, and so far only a few have refused, opting to stay behind. Everyone knows that their chances suck, but Gerard gets the feeling that they all know what's hanging in the air; that they all realize that this is their last and best chance. 

Gerard rides with Ray, Butcher, and Chris, with Andy behind the wheel. Their first wave is two cars and the van full of people, and as soon as Andy drops them off he peels away from the curb to go back for more with the other drivers. Gerard stares across the lawn at the school and feels his jaw twinge, and he wipes sweaty palms on his jeans before pulling out his stakes.

***

"Get your asses over here." Maja is just as snappish over the phone as she is in person. "You are needed in Manhattan--leave Jersey for the dogs."

"I just don't think that would be wise yet," William says, for what feels like the hundredth time. He so dearly wants to hang up on her.

"You told me that you had taken care of Gerard. Did you or not?"

William hesitates. "I did. I think I did, but--"

"You _think?_ Fuck off, William. You and Travis can come down here and help when you get sick of wringing your hands over problems that just exist in your fatuous head." 

The dial tone clicks, and William glares at the phone, slamming it down on the desk in front of him. "Someday I'll see her head chopped off and that day will be beautiful," he snarls. 

"Someday soon, here's hoping," Travis says. He's sitting at a desk designed for human teenagers and he's far too big for it, dwarfing the seat with his long legs.

"She's helped us make leaps and strides in taking over, but I swear--" 

William hears a loud crash, and then screams and yells, both human and vampire. Travis is on his feet instantly, and they both know what's just happened.

"For fuck's sake," William says, incredulous. "I drained their main man dry, what the hell else do I have to do to make these gnats go away?"

Their classroom is on the third floor, and upon looking out the window, for a second William feels afraid. There are humans everywhere, pouring into the building, shooting crossbows at the windows, fighting. This must be all of them, the humans' whole arsenal gathered for one last stand against them. As wary as William has remained about Pete, he thought their little group would at least wait a little longer before going on a suicide mission. It's interesting.

"Pete's gonna be gunning for you," Travis says. "They all are, but--you know." 

William waves a hand. "Of course he is. And," he says, sharper, "We're _not_ going to use our last resort until he gets to me."

Travis frowns. "I thought the whole point of that was--"

"I want to see him," William says, snapping his mouth shut when he hears the way his voice rises. Travis is looking at him now with narrowed eyes, and William takes a breath. "Let Pete get to me," he says, calmer. "Then we'll finish it."

***

The swarm of vampires seem to have some intel on them--probably thanks to William's time inside Gerard's head--because they focus immediately on separating Gerard from the rest of the group. Gerard is swamped and fighting with a still-broken jaw and only one hand that works entirely properly, and they would have him down in seconds if it weren't for Ray. Ray _slices_ a swathe through the vampires that have separated them, and Gerard only has a moment to be impressed and mildly grossed out before he's ducking to let Ray take out the one clinging to Gerard's shoulders. 

"Owe you one," Gerard gasps out before kicking a vampire to his left in the groin and staking the one on his right. He stakes the one on the left, still doubled over, as soon as his hand is free.

"You owe me way more than one by now," Ray says with a short-of-breath laugh before swinging his axe again.

Gerard is focused so much on the immediate problem of keeping himself alive that he doesn't notice that they're being driven away from the group until he stumbles out the doors to the school courtyard. He gets to his feet and tries to get back in, but the vermin are pouring out, attacking him and forcing him further away from the school. Ray is still at his side, and when Gerard looks around he sees others fighting out here, too. Through a broken window across the courtyard, he can see fire.

Ray throws a stake and it goes through a vampire at the collarbone, skewering the vampire behind it as well. "One of us needs to go after William," he yells over the fighting. "If we don't take him or any of the other leaders out, this whole thing will be for nothing."

"I'm in no shape to take him on, you go," Gerard says. He feels something hit the back of his knees and his legs buckle, knocking him to the ground. He swats at the small vampire latched onto his legs, reaching blindly back with the stake in his hand. He hears a scream when the wood hits something and he hauls the thing off him to get its heart.

"I can't just leave, they're all over you--"

Gerard sees the new vampires and the glint of metal coming around the corner of the school a split second before the shots go off. "Get down!" he screams at Ray, yanking at his leg but it's too late: the AK-47s are already ripping through everyone, vampires and humans both. The vampires don't even bother to duck--the bullets aren't wood so it doesn't matter. Gerard makes himself flat on the ground, covering his head with his hands, and next to him Ray is on the ground as well.

The shots pause and Gerard hears screams and yells coming from the vampires with the guns--his people must have intercepted them. "Fuck," he hisses at Ray. "They have fucking _automatic weapons?_ "

Ray doesn't answer, and doesn't move when Gerard grabs his arm. Gerard knows then what he's going to see when he rolls Ray over onto his back, but it still knocks the breath from his body when he sees the bullet holes in Ray's chest.

Ray had the stupidest fucking haircut, a short 'fro that made his head look fat, when Gerard first met him slingshotting beers at a party Mikey had dragged Gerard to. He kept talking to Mikey and Gerard about starting a band until Mikey got taken, and he's saved Gerard's life more times than he can count. Gerard knows he's staring down at the body with his mouth open, knows he should be moving, but he feels frozen. He can't just--he can't leave Toro's body here, he needs--jesus, _Ray_ \--

But he has to leave the body here, of course. He needs to get back into the fight, and Ray's right, he needs to go after William. William and his equals are his priority--eliminating them is all that matters. Gerard stands and feels himself go blank, go numb. There's no room or time to grieve now. He grabs Ray's biggest axe and the smaller stakes Ray had attached to his belt, tucking them into his own jacket. 

"Love you," Gerard whispers down to Ray's body before looking up and away, swinging the axe at the vampire leaping towards him. He cuts a path across the courtyard and back towards the center of school as quickly as he can, intent on tracking down William.

***

"I still don't want to just leave you," Greta says, her knuckles white on the steering wheel as she pulls up to the curb of the school.

"I'll still be here when you get back with more backup," Patrick says. "Out, come on," he says to the four teenagers crowded in the backseat, and he turns to kiss Greta once, hard on the mouth before getting out himself. The tires squeal as she pulls away, speeding back to the motel to bring back more humans.

"Get in a line like we showed you earlier," Patrick orders as he kneels on the grass, pulling out his loaded crossbow. The kids fan out on either side of them. "If you don't get the heart, that's fine; the important thing is to just mow down as many vampires as possible, get them out of the fight," he calls out before starting to shoot himself. These kids aren't the best shots--he's pretty sure all of them only arrived a couple of weeks ago--but they do what they're told, shooting bolts fast into the morass of fighting vampires and humans. It's easy enough to hit the vampires, considering how much they outnumber the humans. 

Patrick sees movement up high out of the corner of his eye, and turns his crossbolt up automatically. It's vampires in the windows, pushing out AK-47s and preparing to mow down the humans. "The windows!" Patrick yells out, firing and taking out the first gunman, hitting the heart and killing it. He moves to the right and fires again, taking another one out, and he can see the kids obediently taking out the rest. Patrick searches the rest of the windows for more, and stops and stares when his eye catches something in a third floor window.

It's unmistakably William. His face disappears from the window as Patrick gawks, but Patrick doubts that William recognized him, that William knows Patrick saw him. Patrick knows that the only hope they have of making this suicide mission worth it is if they manage to take William out and he doubts that William's going to stick around to wait for them to target him. He also doubts that anyone else who has a hope in hell of taking William out has found out where he is yet. 

Patrick probably doesn't have a hope in hell of taking William out, but he can't just kneel in the grass shooting arrows now. It's William.

He looks at his line of archers. They're just untried kids, and it's highly likely that they'll get picked off fast if he leaves them. But he knows they'll keep the shooting line he asked them to if he leaves, at least, and he knows what's most important. 

Hating himself, Patrick turns to the boy at his left. "You're in charge of the line," he yells above the fight. "I have to go inside."

"You're leaving?" The boy's eyes go wide with horror for a second, but then he swallows and nods. 

Patrick doesn't waste any more time. He stands, flinging his crossbow to the side--it's useless in close combat--and runs into the group fighting on the school lawn. He ducks and weaves around vampires and humans, tries to keep his momentum and avoid getting into fights. He stakes a vampire quickly that throws itself on him, and another that gets its arms around his neck. When he's finally inside, there's still more fighting, but none of the combatants have noticed him yet: he has a second to breathe. 

He heads for the stairs.

***

Pete had been really hoping that Belleville would have few vampires, that most of them would be off killing people in New York instead of here. But no such fucking luck--they're here in the millions, or at least that's what it seems like. Pete has no patience for this, he can't waste time wasting the creatures hanging off his fucking _arms,_ he needs to find William.

A vampire sinks its teeth into Pete's forearm, clinging by its fangs. Pete yells and swings it into another vampire attacking him before he gets his stake-hand free, jamming wood through its eye into its brain. It screams and lets go.

Pete stakes another one and takes a step back, tries to catch his breath and take stock of the situation. Everything is chaos; as far as he can tell here on the second floor, any of the battle plans and formations they'd discussed before the attack have dissolved, and now they're just fighting to survive and kill. Somewhere in the mele he can see an axe swinging, and he thinks a sword as well; frustrated, he grabs a smaller hand axe from the floor, dropped by someone who's probably dead now, and chops his way through vampires to the stairs. He's certain that William isn't on this floor. 

The axe gets stuck in one vampire's skull, and in the split second Pete spends struggling to get it out, a vampire bigger than he is slams into him and knocks him to the floor. Pete rolls away and grabs another stake from his boot but the vampire has some kind of giant club and Pete gets it in the temple, knocking him dizzy. He blinks up as the thing raises its hand for another blow.

And then the vampire chokes and falls to the side, a giant axe that Pete recognizes in its back. Gerard is now standing above Pete, grunting as he works to remove the weapon.

"This thing's as big as you are," Pete says as he stands and helps Gerard free the axe, giving him a questioning look.

"Ray's dead," Gerard says by way of an answer, his voice flat. Pete sucks in a breath.

"I'm sorry," he says. He doesn't think there's much else he can say; he knows how long Gerard has--had--known Ray.

Gerard nods jerkily. "Yeah. Find William, okay? I'm not really in any shape to." 

"I will, yeah." Pete grabs Gerard's shoulder and kisses him on the lips before Gerard can pull away. Gerard kisses him back, as much as he can with his jaw, and Pete feels something sting in his chest. He tries not to think about the way Gerard looked at him earlier, like he was an enemy to defend against. 

"Bye," Pete says, and he can hear how strangled and breath-y his voice is. Gerard blinks at him and then gives him a watery smile and a corny salute. 

Pete turns to find William, and behind him he can hear the sounds of the fight and Gerard covering his back.

***

William is cranky. He wants to find Pete, dammit, and instead there are hordes of humans and vampires fighting pettily all around him. It's crowded and annoying. 

And he's lost Travis somewhere in all this. William isn't concerned; no human is going to be able to take Travie out, but William doesn't want Travis to run off from the whole mess without him. 

A human bumps into him and William snarls, grabs it by the hair and breaks its neck. He tosses the body to the side and there, the stairs, Pete's probably further down in the school--

A human comes running up the stairs at him, blocking William's way and glaring. It takes William a few moments, but then he recognizes him.

"Planning on leaving the fight to your underlings?" Patrick says. To his credit, his voice doesn't shake, even though William's certain he's terrified.

"You're not who I'm after," William snaps. "You can get out of the way," he says, surprising himself a little with the mercy, but his patience is at an end and he just doesn't want to deal with this.

Patrick lifts his chin in defiance and christ, humans are stupid. "Don't think I will, thanks."

"Very well." The mercy is gone as quickly as it came, and William can feel the black oily viciousness that's been taking over ever since Gabe's death bubble up inside him now. He bares his teeth in a grin and lunges. 

Patrick is faster than he was the last time William saw him in a fight, in Chicago last summer. He's learned a lot and he's fitter, blocking William's first hit and immediately darting in with his stake aimed at William's heart, not wasting any time. William has to jump to the side fast to avoid it and he grabs Patrick's wrist as the killing blow moves past him, using Patrick's momentum to throw him into the wall.

Patrick cries out in pain and the stake falls from his hand. William doesn't waste time, either, kicking Patrick's side viciously as soon as he's down. William hears a rib crack and grins, but when he kicks in again Patrick grabs his foot and plunges another, different stake into William's ankle.

The pain is a surprise and William yells, hopping away. He reaches down and yanks the wood out, glaring at Patrick, who's scrambling to his feet with a hand on his side. 

Patrick is Pete's, William remembers. And oh, that's _right,_ it's Patrick's fault that Pete ever left him. William remembers it all. 

He forgets about tracking down Pete, forgets about his mission with Maja and Travis to rule over humanity, forgets about his people fighting throughout the whole school. Nothing else exists now. The oily blackness is at the edge of his sight, now, encroaching on everything, and William is happy for it. 

Patrick throws himself at William again and William dodges him easily. He doesn't put all the effort he could into fighting back, and he knows Patrick can tell that William's toying with him as his movements grow more and more desperate. William catches his arm then and sinks his teeth into his wrist, and feels a surge of mad delight as he gathers his strength and rips as hard as he can.

Patrick's hand comes off in his mouth and William doesn't think he has ever been purer than this, a glorious predator with the prey's flesh in his mouth, blood flowing over his chin and neck and shirt. Patrick gives a bloodcurdling, high scream and keeps screaming, stumbling back and clutching his arm to his chest. William shakes the hand in his mouth in victory, crowing around it before spitting it out onto the ground and laughing. He's drenched in blood from it and blood pools on the tiled floor at his feet, and it's wonderful. He's giddy with it.

At Patrick's moan, William remembers that he's still there. He turns to him and moves in for the kill, but then the ground shakes. William slips in the blood and hits his head, sending out _no, NO not yet_ to the imbeciles setting this off, and before he can turn his attention to his prey again he sees Patrick scrambling away. William moves to go after him but slips again as another tremor comes. This can't be the real bomb yet, otherwise the floor beneath his feet would be gone--he must be feeling the shocks from another wing of the school. He sends out more instructions to wait, because this _can't_ end before Pete gets to him, even if that means letting some of the humans escape. 

***

Gerard doesn't think the wound is fatal, but he's definitely losing blood, and he knows it's slowing him down enough that the chances are good he's going to get worse from any vamp that notices he's weak. He presses down harder on the gash at his side and swings out carelessly at the closest vampire, managing to get a stake in its neck through luck more than anything else. It shrieks and falls back, spurting blood over Gerard's hand and forearm, and Gerard stumbles around it. He doesn't know where to go, what to do to try and save this fight or where any of his people are, and he doesn't know if Pete is still alive or if he made it to William. The walls and the floor start to rumble again, and he's thrown to his knees as everything convulses.

He hears a familiar yell, and when he turns his head Frank is there, a vampire falling to the floor in front of him with a stake through its chest. Gerard calls his name and struggles to his feet, the blood lost from the gash making him dizzy, and Frank is immediately there with a hand helping him up. "Thanks--"

"They're blowing us up," Frank says in a rush, his fingers gripping Gerard's forearm. "The east wing of the building is rubble, and I'll bet you that we're next."

Fuck. "Pete went after--"

"I'm getting you _out of here,_ " Frank says, already dragging Gerard towards the stairs. "Bob is already working on evacuating what humans we can, I think Brian is still fighting outside."

"We can't just leave!" Gerard says, yanking his arm out of Frank's grip. "We need to get William, that's the whole point--"

"This fight is fucked and this part of the school could blow at any second," Frank says, meeting Gerard's eyes. "We need to get what survivors we have out of here, _now._ "

Frank's right, and Gerard thinks he might throw up. He tries to remember that Pete's a vampire, which means that if these monsters think they can survive a bomb going off, then Pete should be able to as well. He nods and they move for the stairs, grabbing what humans they can on the way. 

***

Pete knows he has to be on the right track. He can smell vampires everywhere, of course, but somewhere in there is the particular scent that he knows much better than he'd like to, somewhere in there is William, and Pete's getting closer.

And he can smell Patrick, and blood. Lots of blood. Pete goes faster, flying up the stairs, falling immediately when the stairs start shaking beneath them. He tumbles down until the shaking stops, and puts questions about what the fuck that was--earthquake? someone trying to take down the whole building?--out of his mind as he scrambles to his feet and goes up until he stumbles to a stop, almost slipping in a pool of blood on the floor.

It smells like Patrick's, and there's a lot of it.

"Oh, I knew you'd find me." William is across the stairwell from him, standing up and smiling pleasantly. He's smiling pleasantly, politely, and his chin is covered with the same blood that's on the floor. Pete feels the whole world stop.

"Don't worry--your little friend escaped me when the building got the shakes. The red is just from my souvenir, you see?" He waves a dismembered hand, his smile growing into a grin. 

Pete wants to throw up. "You--"

"So how've you been? It's been so long," William says, tossing Patrick's hand on the stairs. "You look well, although I think you've lost some weight. They must not be feeding you properly." William tsks.

Pete raises the small axe he's still holding and throws it at William's head.

William moves, but isn't quick enough to dodge it completely, and the metal plunges into his collarbone. William yells and Pete throws himself at him, knocking both of them into the opposite wall and landing in the sticky pool of Patrick's blood. They roll and struggle and William ends up on top, his face insane and furious and blood drops from his shoulder wound flying onto Pete's face. His hands are on Pete's throat, pressing down enough to crush a human's windpipe and almost hard enough to crush Pete's. Pete punches William's elbow with all the strength he can muster and hears it break. William yells and Pete manages to throw him off and scramble to his feet.

When Pete is standing and facing him again, William has pulled the axe out of his own shoulder. He swings it viciously at Pete's neck, and Pete ducks but it still grazes his head, slicing off skin on the back of his head. Pete ignores the pain and gets a stake in his hand, slashing out and making William scramble backwards. Pete takes advantage of William being off balance and aims for the heart, and William is too slow to dodge completely and Pete's stake gets buried in his gut.

William screams again and Pete scrambles back, out of reach. William sinks to his knees, his hands going to the wound in his stomach. It won't kill him, not quite, and Pete already has another stake in his hand. When he steps forward, William just looks up at him with his mouth slack in surprise.

"Pete," William says, and the gentleness in his voice actually makes Pete hesitate for a second. "Please."

"I think you might want to take a step back," another voice says. "Maybe even a couple steps."

Pete already knows what he's going to see when he turns, and yes, there: Travis has Patrick pinned in his arms, his fingers on Patrick's throat. He doesn't have to bite him; he can just break Patrick's neck. 

Pete takes a small step back. "Put him down." Patrick's shirt is ripped, and Pete can see he's fashioned a clumsy tourniquet around the bloody stump of his hand.

"It looks like I got yours and you got mine," Travis says, giving Pete a tight smile. "So what's it gonna be?"

***

Pete's face is stony and blank, and Patrick can see how tight he's still gripping the stake. _Just do it,_ Patrick thinks at him furiously. _Just stake the bastard, I'm probably going to die of blood loss anyway, it's not worth it--_

"Let him go and I'll drop the stake," Pete says. 

"I don't think so," Travis says, and Patrick can hear the sneer in his voice. His fingers tighten on Patrick's neck and _god dammit Pete just fucking_ kill _him_ \-- "You first."

"No. I don't trust you not to break his neck as soon as I'm out of range to waste him quickly," Pete says, gesturing at William and glaring at Travis. 

"Let's just agree on a truce, yeah? You walk away without trying to kill us, we walk away without trying to kill you. Even steven."

"Even--" Pete splutters, his face contorting with rage, but Travis chokes Patrick a little more, eliciting an involuntary strangled gasp from Patrick. Pete stops, his jaw working.

"Fine," he says. "Truce. White fucking flag."

Pete takes a step back from William, his eyes not leaving Patrick, and Travis' hold loosens. Pete drops the stake and Travis lets go, and Patrick stumbles forward. Pete catches him, pulls him in close and Patrick has to grab Pete's arm to keep from falling over, blood loss making him dizzy. Travis is at William's side, helping him up and pulling the stake from his gut. Travis and Pete trade one last look and then they disappear go up the stairs, and Pete and Patrick go down.

"Pete," Patrick manages to gasp out. "You shouldn't have--why didn't you just--"

"We need to get you to a hospital," Pete says. "Wait, fuck, your hand, we should go back for it--"

There's another boom and the everything shakes again, throwing them against the wall. 

"No time," Patrick says. "I really have the feeling that we should be getting the hell out of this building."

They hurry down the stairs, and Patrick feels like his whole brain is just--swimming, incoherent. Even with wrapping his wrist in his shirt, he knows he's losing too much blood, and his vision is beginning to blur. The fighting is still going on in the hallway, vampires everywhere and smoke and screaming, and Pete positions himself in front of Patrick, staking anything that comes near them. 

Patrick sees the vampire out of the corner of his eye, raising a stake to throw it. He yells "No!" but it's too late and Pete stumbles back upon impact, wood sticking out from his chest. Patrick can hear himself yelling but he doesn't know what, and Pete is saying something but Patrick can feel dizziness overtake him. The building shakes again and there's a roaring sound; his vision keeps going black and then coming back, and Patrick can feel himself being carried--by Pete? No, but Pete was staked, Patrick has to get to him, he must be dying, Pete Pete Pete--

Patrick hears glass shatter and then he's getting shoved out a window. He yells as he falls, grasping for anything but it's no use. But the fall isn't floor, he must've only been on the second story, and he hits the top of a car and rolls off. Pain racks his body and he thinks he might pass out, Pete--

The explosion picks him off his feet and throws him forward, noise screaming in his ears and dust and smoke and fire all around him. He hits the ground and maybe it's torn him apart, maybe he's dead and in pieces, the rest of his body gone with his hand, maybe it's over. 

Some part of himself is aware enough to curl his arms protectively over his head, to try and protect himself from the debris still raining down from the ruins of the school. He tries to open his mouth to breathe, but just hacks on the smoke and dust. He can feel the heat from something near on fire. 

When it clears enough he can hear and see people running from the rubble, mostly vampires--few humans stuck inside will have survived the explosions. The vampires aren't going after the few humans that've made it out, though; they're too frightened and confused themselves. Patrick knows he needs to take advantage of the chaos to get away from anything with teeth, he needs to get medical attention for his arm, he needs to tighten the tourniquet, he needs to find Pete and Greta and Joe and Andy, oh god, were they all inside? Pete...

Patrick can't think. His head is still muzzy and he can't remember the details that are so important, can't clearly remember whether Pete got a stake in his heart or whether that's just what Patrick thought he saw, can't remember if it was Pete who shoved him out the window or someone else. Patrick can't see any other humans, and the school is gone. If they managed to kill Pete, the rest of their group didn't even stand a chance. The realization that they've lost horribly rings crystal clear in his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick thinks he sees a flash of brown hair and long limbs; thinks he sees William scurrying away. Fear and adrenaline spike through Patrick and he gets to his feet, and soon he's running with the others. Running away, stumbling over bodies and parts of cars and parts of the building. No one tries to eat him, no one stops him, and at the first opportunity Patrick gets he throws himself into an alleyway behind a dumpster, panting as he hears the vampires still running past, yelling in triumph or fear or madness, he's not sure what.

He rips off another strip of cloth from his shirt and discards the blood-drenched old tourniquet, wrapping a new one around his stump. It makes him ill to look at, makes him ill to try and move fingers that aren't there. The memory of William with Patrick's wrist hanging from his mouth flashes, and Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and turns to vomit on the gravel beside him. He doesn't hear any more running in the street outside; he's not sure how far he is away from the school.

He hasn't seen anything from Greta since she kissed him goodbye in the car. Patrick hopes she did all right for herself, hopes she never had to go inside the school and so never got caught in the explosion. He hopes Gerard got all his people out safely.

He hopes Pete is alive. He needs Pete to be alive. 

Patrick goes back to the school and searches through the rubble, and maybe it's a good sign that he can't find a body. Maybe that means that Pete got out, and not that he got blown to smithereens. He does find the bodies of several kids he knows, and has to throw up again. 

He doesn't know how much time passes before he gives up, but he finds himself turning and walking away from the rubble before he's made the conscious decision to do so. His feet carry him forward even though Patrick can't think and can't see anything beyond the image of sharp wood in Pete's chest. Another automatic part of him grabs a somewhat-splintered stake sticking out between a few broken slabs of cement, tucking it into his shirt. He pulls the tourniquet tight again and he picks a direction and he keeps his eyes down, and he keeps walking. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> ...so I've finally finished this monster, and don't really know what to say. The whole story stands at 104,817 words, and in every way it's the most ambitious fannish project I've ever attempted. It still hasn't really sunk in that I've actually finished it.
> 
> There's no way I would have gotten this far without the support and suggestions of my friends and of everyone who's been following this series. I am so amazingly grateful to everyone who's helped along the way. 
> 
> I guess I never really explained why I gave this series the title I did--it's a lyric from Perfect Day by Lou Reed, which doesn't necessarily have anything to do with vampires, but it is a song that I've listened obsessively every step of the way while writing this, and I can't hear it without thinking about William and Pete and Patrick and Gerard. So really, it's a title that only makes sense to me even when I explain it, but there you go.


End file.
